Something's Up
by noneko
Summary: Sometimes, the truth comes out. And sometimes, it's forced out. The Adventures of the Exile, Adine, and Atton Rand on Nar Shaddaa.


"Something up?" Atton drawled lazily, letting his arm rest against the back of the pilot's chair. The emptiness of hyperspace cast a glow over the _Ebon Hawk's_ cockpit, coloring surfaces a light blue – Atton's shirt, the bulkhead, Alene's hair. A console beeped: Atton glanced at it for a moment, then returned his gaze to the Exile. She noticed with consternation that his expression had not changed yet- it was still the same carefully nonchalant look that he always wore in her presence.

"I wanted to ask you a question." She said lightly, a blush beginning to creep its way up the back of her neck. This was starting to become embarrassing. Maybe she should just leave. After all, she didn't really need to know the answer. It was a stupid question anyway.

"Well, go ahead and ask your question." Atton's voice cut through her thoughts, startling her out of her reverie. She glanced at him, her expression turning slightly suspicious. Atton was never particularly forthcoming with information. He had never told her what he had done with his life when she asked him. Why was he willing to put up with her questions now? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe she should turn around and walk away, and leave well enough alone.

Mira's face appeared in her mind's eye, mocking and triumphant.

"_You couldn't do it, could you?"_ _she_ _crowed, her mouth spreading into a gleeful smirk_. _"Couldn't ask him a simple question. Well, hand it over!"_ Her hand rested on her hip, her other hand jabbed, palm upwards, towards Alene. In her mind, she sighed and reached into her robes, pulling out a credit chip. A very large denomination of a credit chip.

The image shattered, and Alene set her mouth in a determined line. She was going to win that bet with Mira, no matter what. Her purse depended on it. Atton raised and eyebrow questioningly, and before she could stop herself, the Exile blurted out,

"What did you do after the war?"

Silence followed her outburst, as Alene blushed furiously and Atton's mouth dropped open. He blinked and frowned, his hand leaving the back of the chair to run through his hair.

"That's an…interesting question." He said finally. "Did Mandalore put you up to it?" Alene raised an eyebrow and shook her head. Atton and sighed and explained.

"He's been… taunting me. Treating me like something he scraped off his boot. I don't think he likes any of us-" he pressed on at Alene's disbelieving gaze. "He talks to himself a lot, about who knows what. Once, I walked into the bunks, and he was messing around with that trash-compacter of a T3 unit."

Alene sighed. "That doesn't prove anything, Atton." She countered, feeling the role of a Jedi tighten around her as she spoke. "And that doesn't really answer my question." Atton sat back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh of- annoyance? acceptance? she couldn't really tell- and massaging the bridge of his nose. "What makes you think I did anything, huh?"

Alene shifted uncomfortably. "Well, that's what I think, but it seems like you must have done something. And Mira said-"

"Mira?" Atton broke in incredulously. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. "That explains a lot."

He turned to fully face her, and caught the sleeve of her robe with one gloved hand. "Well, it has to come out sooner or later." He smiled. Alene didn't like this smile. It wasn't warm, or inviting, or even the lecherous smirk he normally wore. It was just… empty. "But I'm not going to tell you." He said seriously. Then his mouth curled into a smirk, bringing his expression back into familiar territory. "And tell Mira she can stuff it."

"Where the frack are you taking us, Rand?" Mira hissed, scowling at the pilot. Atton didn't break his stride, and Alene had to jog lightly to keep up. Atton let out a low laugh, calling back to the bounty hunter over his shoulder. "I thought you knew every back alley on this planet, Mira."

Mira glared furiously at Atton's back, but said nothing. Atton turned down yet another winding side street, and Alene felt a twinge of nervousness rising in her belly. All the streets looked the same. She wasn't sure if she could find her way out again without the scoundrel's help. It didn't help that she had had to leave her lightsaber back at the ship, either. And the Twi'lek's warning still hung fresh in her mind. She simply hadn't found the time or had the opportunity to ask him about that yet. She was suddenly very grateful for Mira's presence. She wasn't sure if she could trust Atton alone.

Atton stopped suddenly, and Alene, still lost in thought, nearly ran into him. She quickly backed away and stammered an apology, feeling heat rush to her cheeks, but Atton was not paying attention to her. Instead he stared off at the many colored lights and dark alleys, furrowing his brow in deep concentration. Alene followed his gaze, and noted with consternation that he was eyeing one of the busty Twi'leks that stood temptingly outside one of the larger cantinas. _Can't he take anything seriously for more then a parsec? He said we would look for clues in this Force-forsaken slum, but if all he can think about are drinks and whores… _A needle of pain shot into her heart, but she pushed it down irritably. Why should she care what Atton did with his time? It wasn't like she was in _love _with him or anything…

Atton glanced back at Alene with a questioning look on his face, and she hurriedly fought down the blush that she felt rising to her cheeks. _Don't be ridiculous,_ she told herself quickly. _He can't hear my thoughts… he may be perceptive, but that only goes so far. Don't jump to conclusions like an untrained Padawan._

"I'll start looking for information," Mira's voice shook Alene out of her thoughts, as the younger woman started to melt into the crowd. "I'll meet up with you before nightfall." Alene opened her mouth to make some form of protest, but the bounty hunter was gone. Atton's presence weighed heavily on her senses, and she suddenly realized that, even amidst millions of other sentients, she was, for all intensive purposes, alone with him.

"Well, now," Atton placed a gloved hand familiarly at Alene's back. "It looks like she left us to do the grunt work." It felt strange, wearing civilian clothing instead of the Jedi robes she normally wore. Atton's fingers pressed sharply into the thin fabric, and the flaps of his jacket brushed softly against her neck as he moved closer. Another involuntary blush crept up her neck as Atton leaned over her shoulder and set his mouth next to her ear. Something about the man set her on edge. She just wasn't sure what.

"Maybe we should get started." He said softly. Alene pulled away quickly, and patted down her shirt uncomfortably. Only Atton could make a simple statement sound so… suggestive. Or maybe she was imagining things. Ten years of wandering the Outer Rim and a lifetime as a Jedi before that hadn't exactly prepared her for dealing with men. Especially ones like Atton Rand.

"Yes, we should," Alene stated nervously, as she glanced around at the cantina entrances. "Should we start with that one?" she pointed towards one of the smaller looking buildings and looked towards the pilot questioningly. Atton shrugged and pushed her forward, towards the bright lights and loud music. Suddenly, he stopped again, and turned Alene around to face him. His next comment confused her, though.

"You're too good." he said seriously, looking at her as if that sentence explained everything. Alene blinked and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Atton continued, gesturing towards the cantina. "You're too light. They'll be able to tell. And we don't have enough time for you to go change… we'll have to make a cover story." Atton closed his eyes, and appeared to be thinking very hard about something. Alene tried to probe his mind for some indication of what he was thinking, but all that came back were numbers and coordinates.

"Maybe you could be my cousin from off planet… or some girl I'm conning." He said quietly, more to himself then to the Exile. His eyes opened, and his old assurance was back. "You'll be a farm girl from Deralia." He said with finality, and gave Alene a pleased grin. "I'll be the big bad con man who promised to take you away from everything." Alene snorted, even though the nervous fluttering in her stomach had reached an uncomfortable level. "How is that different then what you normally do?" Atton smirked and said nothing, instead gesturing towards the cantina door."

"After you, _my dear_."

The cantina was filled with smoke and noise and the overwhelming sensations that one normally associates with cantinas. It took all of Alene's Jedi concentration not to show what she was sensing on her face, but she felt like she was fighting a losing battle. Atton's blank presence was a blessing, and Alene took refuge in the blank spot he registered underneath the overpowering emotions. He took hold of her hand, and she didn't protest as he led her through the mass of sentient life. Alene thought ruefully that they must look ridiculous, a smooth talking, fast living pilot dragging along a naïve looking young woman as if they were in some terrible hurry. The pazaak tables loomed ahead, lit dimly by a hanging light. Alene winced and shook her head. _Is this his plan? Cards?_ She had no more time to think; Atton sat down heavily on one of the many chairs and dragged her onto his lap. He reached into his pocket, slammed a credit chip down on table, and gestured irritably to the Sullustan who sat across from him.

"Stay calm." He whispered to Alene, pulling her even closer to his chest. "I want you to do something for me." Alene tried not to squirm out of his reach, instead forcing herself to remain still. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no Atton Rand running his hand up your waist, there is…._ His next words startled her out of her thoughts enough to tear her eyes away from the floor and meet Atton's gaze.

"Read them." he ordered softly, his eyes bright and oddly intense.

Alene blinked slowly. "What?"

Atton sighed, as if what he had said was the simplest thing in the galaxy. "Read them." he said again, "With the Force. Find out what's going on in those ugly mugs of theirs. I'll get them to talk, if you keep me winning." Alene nodded mutely, glancing back at the card table. Five pairs of eyes stared coolly at her, belonging to the four other sentiments that sat there. Alene swallowed nervously, then took a deep breath as she cleared her mind.

The Force came easily; it had ever since Kreia had reopened her mind to the powers she had lost. Alene welcomed it, letting the Force wash over her, letting it fill her senses with a rush of both excitement and tranquility. Suddenly, she could _feel_ everything in the cantina; the bartender's hidden boredom, the dancers' careful seduction, the burning pleasure as juma found its way down patron's throats.

Atton received his cards and ruffled through them, glancing at Alene through the corner of his eye. Alene concentrated on the faces in front of her, gliding past the veneer of their surface emotions and digging deeper.

She leaned in towards Atton's ear, in what she hoped looked like a seductive position, and whispered quietly, "The Gran has a bad hand. So does the Sullustan. I'm not quite sure about the Aqualish or the Abyssin. They're better at hiding their emotions." Atton nodded airily and tossed a credit chip from one hand to the other stopping a moment to smirk at a Twi'lek barmaid as she sauntered by.

_Did he even hear me? _Alene thought sourly, but she remained silent, a vapid smile pasted on her face. Atton lost the hand. As the Aqualish scooped credits into his already impressive pile, Alene shot the pilot a dirty glance. He responded with a smirk and a pinch, both of which caused Alene's cheeks to redden and her temper to rise.

"Don't worry about it. It's all under control. Now, same thing."

Alene shot him the dirtiest glare she could manage, but he seemed unaffected by it. "The Abyssin has a good hand. He's pleased about it."

Atton nodded sagely and glanced at his own hand. "I think I can manage this one. Watch and learn."

_That idiot…_ Alene thought irritably._ He manages to avoid my questions, then drags me into the pit of a cantina, asks me to help him cheat… and then he spends the whole time carousing with Twi'leks and lowlifes! I can't fracking believe this. Mira had better come up with something good. Why, I'll bet that-_

"Well… it looks like I win again, doesn't it?" Atton' voice jostled Alene out of her reverie in time to see Atton's triumphant smirk as he held out his cards expectantly. A giant pile of credits sat in front of him, and the other sentients expressions could hardly be described as genial.

The Abyssin rose to his feet with a roar, slamming his large hands on the table._ You are cheating! It is impossible to win ten hands in a row! _Atton remained unfazed. "Look, I know you're all jealous, fellas, but I'm not here for your money."

The Gran gave what sounded like a snort. _You take all our money, and say you don't want it? I am finding this hard to believe. _

"Believe what you will, but I'm willing to give it all back to you." Atton leaned forward, pressing Alene against the table. "All I want is some information."

No one spoke for many moments. Alene wondered how long it was going to take before they were chased out. She hoped it wasn't much longer; the rendezvous with Mira was coming up, and it was likely that the bounty hunter had found some useful information.

Finally, the Rodian spoke up, the harshness of his tongue grating against Alene's ears.

_ What information do you require, human? _

Atton grinned, and Alene's eyes widened. It seemed that the pilot was good for something after all.

They exited the cantina, Atton's hand still firmly around Alene's wrist. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned around and grinned. "Well?"

Alene calmly pulled her hand out of the scoundrel's grasp. "We didn't learn anything we didn't already know."

Atton threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing through the now nearly-empty alley. "You just can't give me any credit, can you? Without me, you never would have heard about what's happening on Dantooine. Good thing that Sullustan had a large family… good connections."

Alene scowled. "I don't give you enough credit? Maybe I would if I knew anything about you!"

Atton paused, his mirth replaced with nonchalance, although Alene could sense the tension in his manner. "Not this again. You don't need to know everything about me, you know." he said seriously, straightening his gloves with a practiced air of indifference.

"But I don't know anything about you! For all I know, you could be some kind of psychopath!" The two Twi'lek's words came back to Alene, playing a horrifying chant in her head.

"_That one - your human companion, the male one, we have seen him here before. That one came to the smuggler's moon years into the Jedi Civil War, claimed he had been displaced by the war. Don't trust him. He is not a soldier - he is a killer, tried and true."_

Atton made no response. He had turned away from her, to face the alley's cracked walls. Then, without any warning, he whirled around, slamming his fist into her face. She fell backwards, reeling more from surprise then the blow itself. Before she could orient herself, Atton had grabbed the edges of her civilian garb and hauled her to a standing position, thrusting her against the wall so hard that stars began to filter in through the edge of her vision.

"Why do you want to know about me, huh?" he spat through gritted teeth, his furrowed eyebrows the only indication that he was angry. That was the most frightening part, Alene decided as she struggled to catch her breath. The fact that his face was impassive. Atton pushed harder, as if to make his point. "I sure as hell know about your past, _Exile_. You may play the angel, but it's just an act. There's a killer behind those pretty little eyes of yours. So you of all people should know when to stop asking questions!" One more shake, and then he let her go, letting her drop to the dingy ground of the alley as he began to stalk away.

Alene was up in less then a second, her glare threatening to burn Atton to a crisp. "I was a general. In a war. At least I killed for a reason!"

Atton stopped short. "What?"

Alene pushed some of her hair behind her ear and continued, her breath coming out in angry pants. "Don't think I don't know, 'Atton'." Atton winced at the emphasis on his name, but he turned to face Alene, his emotionless expression slowly turning into something else… fear? Anger? Alene couldn't really tell. "I met some friends of yours… they told me you were here before the end of the Civil War."

Atton shrugged. "No friends of mine, I'm sure. But…" he sighed, raising one hard to run through his hair. "What do you want, Alene? Just tell me what you want,"

In a corner of her mind, Alene noted that he didn't deny anything. Atton's voice grew deeper, mixed with an unidentifiable emotion. He looked up, his face twisted in

"You might not like what's there."

Alene's anger melted away at the sight of Atton's face, replaced with a slight pang of concern. He looked… sad. She had never seen the expression on his face before, and seeing it now was… different, to see the least. She sighed brokenly. Frack Mira, frack that damn bet. She didn't care anymore.

"I just want the truth, Atton. Just talk to me."

In what seemed like an eternity, Atton nodded. Alene moved closer, placing one hand tentatively on his shoulder. He didn't seem to notice it. He just stared off into the distance, as if he was bringing up memories that had been buried for years.

Alene licked her lips nervously, and tried again."Did you serve in the wars?"

Atton finally turned to look at her. He tried to smirk, but it died on his lips. He finally settled for a low, grave chuckle. "This could take a while. Don't know if we'll have enough time."

Alene smiled softly. "There's always enough time. As long as something doesn't come up."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I had originally planned on making this part of something larger, until I realized that I would never end up doing that. The beginning of this fic began as... something else. (Ask Cyanida . ) But I made it less wrong and more... well, you know. This was written some time last year, back when I still though Atton could be a decent guy. My opinions have changed somewhat, and I prefer the less-psychotic Disciple, but there's always a fondness in my heart for Atton. Hope the writing isn't too bad, and hope people enjoy this! -neko 


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